Depth
by SomnuimArs
Summary: Because she wants him to understand completely.
1. Unsaid

Young Justice is an American animated television series created by Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti for Cartoon Network. All copyright belongs to them.

...

Sorry for not shipping canon. KaldurXArtemis.

...

She wanted him to realize how much danger they were in. How, in any possible moment of time, there existed a possibility of them being exposed. How that would lead to instant failure of the undercover mission that shouldn't exist. How there was too much at stake, with the truth being what it was. How Nightwing, how Wally - both had so much to lose other than their pride. They were in death's territory, and she was utterly defeated by the presence of it.

As so, she wanted him to feel it. The insidious nature of it all that threaten to swallow her whole. Not for him though. She did not feel this desire because she wanted him to know. It was sheer impluse, so real and so close that it was impossible not to share. In the end she didn't tell him. Whether she couldn't or wouldn't wasn't something she knew the difference of.

On the command ship, Kaldur was very much controlled. A committed leader on par with Nightwing. A skilled actor - very much so, she thinks, as she watches him give report to Black Manta. _Father. _It comes out fresh and clean, a voice that seems like a language of it own. His vocals were deep and reassuring. He was at ease among these men, as the submarine travels further down into the depths.

In his private room, Kaldur seems broken. Not completely though, because he still has a mission to carry out and he is sure to remain strong until the last moment. But those nights, when they plunge further down the abyss, he _holds_ her. _Clings on to her because he is very much afraid. _He is never keen to the idea of failure, to the degree that was much more severe than hers.

Some nights were long and unbearable. It has been a little over two years since he took over this position and handed Nightwing the mantle. Over two years of complete isolation. And while she and Wally had quit the team and committed themselves for a subdue, peaceful life, there existed no such thing for this Atlantean. Instead, two years of harsh training, strategic planning, and unit control over fellow recruits were place upon him. The burden increased; in his shelf, the death of Tula had to be moved to the side. Two years to forget about light heart conversation, touch, and every level of possible intimacy. Two years of solitude.

So when Kaldur feels he has reached the bottom on those nights, _when he's at his worst_, he reaches for her. He craves her very being. His web fingers finds her eyes and hair. He brings their foreheads close. No cruel intentions, not for primitive needs - _just to bring her nearer to himself_. Slowly. Ever gentle and handling her with up most care.

Through the tangled sheets, his even breathing ripples to the surface. His nose was touching hers. When she hugs his face towards her, she does not speak. It goes unsaid.


	2. Cold

Young Justice is an American animated television series created by Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti for Cartoon Network. All copyright belongs to them.

...

When he least expected it, danger struck. It hitted hard and fierce, with force that made air escape from his lungs, through the bronchiole, and out the trachea. It was a thing that chilled his bones and shook his very core. Past and present mingled and brought a foul stench. Perhaps it was his sweat. No, it has to be the blood in his hands.

Kaldur can't think straight anymore. His synapse and nerves are dull, and messages don't seem to get into his brain fast enough. His breathing gets quick and labored, and he sounds almost like a animal - wild and dangerous and wounded. His chest hurts.

There were too many risks to start with: losing a green archer had crippled the Team and League, leaving them at their worst emotional state, thus vulnerable to defeat; dying in combat by the hands of his previous comrades; A connection between a new member of his team and a old member of theirs being made; how Black Manta would eventually realize his own son can be label a double agent - a traitor.

Kaldur is entering a stage of shock - both his hands are shaking. His left has blood on it. His right has a communicator. It's barely within his grip, but he keeps pushing the button, calling for a medic. It doesn't help though, for his voice also seems to be trembling, and it's too weak to get any sound through. Death is only inches away. His chest hurts.

His soldiers are still fighting against the League. They gave him time, and tonight, that is all he has. His face is turning into a frightening hue of white.

But he doesn't blame any of them - the Team that is. They didn't know, just as he didn't when he went through a mental checklist of the possible consequences he would have to face. It was only natural for them to define him as a rogue, to severe all ties with him. The Team did nothing wrong. They were only doing what they defined as justice. He wonders numbly of how his next confrontation with Nightwing would go, if such a thing was even possible; he needs a word with him. His chest hurts.

He took away their archer. They took away his partner. Kaldur's hands are shaking. His right has a communicator. His left steadies that of a blood soaked archer. He has not been harmed, not the slightest, but his chest hurts.

Her breathing has become irregular. She breathes in, holds it for a second or two, and breathes out. Her next breath does not come out until ten seconds later. Her pattern is corrupted. Her eyelids flutter, because she wants to stay awake and she can't do it much longer. She is descending down, as the pressure of her chest becomes an unbearable form known as death. The bleeding does not stop.

Kaldur is fine. He is unharmed - not a single scratch - but he feels like his heart is breaking into two. He's been calling for a medic for the past twenty minutes. Tending to her wounds for the past thirty minutes. Fighting a battle for an hour. Pushing down fear and anxiety - two years. And now he's begging, begging for her to stay with him. Just to hold it out for some time longer...

...

Kaldur wakes up sweating and trembling. He's been running in his sleep. As his eyes adjust to the dark, his pulse adjust back to its regular beat. He looks at the sleeping figure beside him, and finds her rising and then declining slowly. His fingers are right where he left them, toying with her brown - once blond - hair. His eyes stays on her for a minute, before he realizes whats wrong. He proceeds to wrap Artemis in a blanket.


	3. Games

Young Justice is an American animated television series created by Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti for Cartoon Network. All copyright belongs to them.

...

Sometimes in the submarine, the crew find themselves in a lapse when all is quiet. The training ground is deserted, lights are out, and all that could be heard was the deep hum that was the engine. These pockets of time are rare and brief, but the army consist of living beings, not machine, and to some extent perhaps Black Manta understood that. So when he decides that it is enough for now - planning, training, recruitment, stocking in necessities - rest will indeed come. The members will save their energy for another day, another battle. Those days when two equivocators allow themselves to unwind. They are not machines, and neither is Nightwing.

Sometimes, the two engage in games, and when they play, they like to think they are still back in Mount Justice. Back when the days rolled by slowly, when crime was controlled, and when they were protected from carrying anything too heavy for their shoulders. When there were labels and definitions. And when rights and wrongs never mixed. When Dick Grayson was reckless, daring, and thirteen; when Wally West moved too fast because the rest of the world moved too slow; when M'gann hid herself under consideration and kindness, waiting for them to pry her hands away; when Conner became thoughtful and mellow and just sat with his fingers unclenched.

All the chess pieces are lined in defense, at the ready. When they play, there exist only intentions on victory. It starts when she makes the first move, and she always used her knight first. His study was chilly today, with the vent bringing intervals of cold air that swept them now and again. It tickles her forearms and wisp through his neck.

Sometimes, cold air will make Kaldur see flashes of red and yellow.

_The boy will be running too fast again, circling them and creating a mild wall of air molecules. When he askes Wally to settle down, he will be replied with a nonchalant mumble of "bored". When Artemis readies her bow and arrow, she will receive a smirk and a cat call. A second later, Wally will be gone, leaving behind a gust of cool wind to rest on them._

She looks at the fingers that moves the rook opposite of hers. They are long and slender and webbed. The man who owns them has veins that courses with the blood of Black Manta, and a mind that carries a dangerous intent to destroy the Justice League.

The pawns are all gone, and now they could make no more sacrifices. She moves her knight forward and hopes he will take the bait. He did, and she complies to take his rook. Her victory, however, was short lived. He moves his bishop right under her nose. Check.

Sometimes, when Artemis is stuck, she can nearly hear a small, smug, yet slightly exasperated voice pulling her to one direction.

_"Bad move Artie." Dick would say, shaking his head. "Never make a plan without thinking it through. Not whelming at all." And as he tuts, he will look at the pieces across from hers and flash a grin. He'll stop right there though, hovering over the board as if to jump into the game himself, but as a last minute afterthought decides not to. Not quite interfering, yet making his presence known, and analyze the pieces instead. He will see that Kaldur is being too gentle to make a direct attack, instead opting for a warning. He will know how this game ends. _

He waits silently for her. She needed only to move her king, as he will not pursue it any further. He glances up to find her biting her lower lip, eyes fixed on her pieces, leaning in a bit closer with her hair framing her forehead. He has never seen her with her hair down. She weights every option she could think of, until at last she shifted her queen as a defense. Quite suddenly, he is distracted.

The submarine appeared to have rose a little towards the surface, for the water outside seems to glow a little brighter. The smell of food wafted into the study; the evening meal is being prepared.

Sometimes, various range of pleasant scent gives them comfort. He thinks of a upbeat girl. She thinks of a somber boy.

_Around this time, the kitchen will be lit. The turkey will be in the oven, and potatoes will be recently peeled. M'gann will be stirring the warm and bubbling broth. When she looks up, she will see the table being set by a boy with a black shirt and a red S on it. And she will smile, because she always does around him. _

_Conner himself would look gentle. He will not be muttering underneath his breath, nor making a fist out of his hands subconsciously. When he meets her eye, he will hold onto it. _

Sometimes, she realize the strings of thoughts they have will only lead them back to where they are. When she can no longer deny the present situation, when she realizes how hard it is for her yet still worse for him, she breaks. She breaks away from everything she values then and comes back to what is now. The game is nearly finished, and the study is coming into vision. Mount Justice has left her completely. As the present becomes sharp and clear, so does he.

The man who killed her months ago seems deep in thought. She looks at the tattoos that mark his arms, and find they are with the presences of scars. The man is a little bit more of everything than he likes to admit. A little bit more confused. A little bit more tired. A little bit more desperate and withdrawn. When she travels up to his weary eyes she could only think of how it might be to extend her fingers and rub his back free from what he carries. Her king is in danger yet again.

His attention no longer belongs to the chess board in front of him. He is not thinking about Dick Grayson. Or Wally West. Or M'gann. Or Conner. He has been studying the woman across from him for the past five minutes. As he studies her he does not stop; he is rich with unanswered questions. More importantly, he finds himself hopelessly trapped. He can not think of what he had then without thinking of who he has now. He eyes still lingered over her. Sometimes he wonders what it is exactly that was keeping her here with him.

Slowly, he lowers his vision back to the board. With deliberate, steady hands, he moves his king near her queen.

A question.

She raises her eyebrows with slight surprise. When she noticed his gaze was fixed on her, she meets him halfway.

By the end, she has taken his king. As her lips play on a smile, he wonders if she knows she has beaten him in more ways than one.


	4. Dinner

Young Justice is an American animated television series created by Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti for Cartoon Network. All copyright belongs to them.

...

It only took five months for the idea to latch on within the crew's mind. Once it started, it took its course and burned brightly in their brains much like ink with paper. Although now Artemis can't blame them for reaching this conclusion; she had been playing at this angle for a while, and despite what they think now, it is still an immense improvement from five months prior. It took a long time for her to adjust to her new identity, and even longer for the crew members to do the same. When she first entered the submarine, she felt the glances rather than saw them, and upon walking next to Kaldur, the lingering feel of the atmosphere told her the question that has yet to be uttered from each and every army member: the girl with the bow and knife, matching step along side their leader. It took a week to relax under her presence. Five to start an idea - brilliant and delicious - that their superior, the son of Black Manta, might not be as stoic as they perceive.

Within the sixth month Black Manta invites them both to a formal dinner near his quarters.

Kaldur is sitting on his armchair, dress in black and blue. His silk tie rests lazily on his chest, and his fingers on his lips. She comes out of the bathroom, wearing her hair in a long elegant braid, her body fitting a black dress with a velvet green bow. His eyes, once trained on the fireplace, now looks on blond hair only he can see. His fingers leave his lips. Slowly.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." She answers. And then, because it needs to be said again, "Yes." She whispers all this, and each and every word becomes lighter. Although Kaldur's room is not bugged, she sees shadows from the opening underneath his door. He rises from his chair and makes his way over to her.

"I am certain," He exhales into her ear, "that you are the epitome of perfection tonight." His hands trails on the small of her back, and then, finding what he needs, they proceed to pull the zipper up. He breaks away. "Please do not worry. You are lovely."

She laughs. It is lighter still.

When they exit the room, the two guards posted outside part to make more space for them. One was a young man, barely twenty-one, while the other seems around the age of thirty-five. Kaldur nods at them, and they reply with a sharp "Superior." The twenty-one year old male smiles approvingly at Artemis, his gun slack in this fingers. Kaldur's eyes soften at this gesture, but he is not the only one to see. When noticing his partner's callous eyes resting on the lady, the older and more experienced army man cleared his throat.

"Have a good evening, sir." He said, loudly. The twenty-one year old straightened himself, finally catching his comrade's warning, and bid Kaldur the same. Kaldur nods again, pulls Artemis closer to himself by her hands, and walks with her down the brightly lit hall. When he turns his head back ever so slightly, he sees the twenty-one year old's eyes still following Artemis's back.

Kaldur sees yellow and red again, even though there's no wind.

Black Manta waits for them at the end of the hall. When he notes their arrival, his mouth forms a thin smile.

"Father." Kaldur greets with familiarity.

"Kaldur'ahm." Black Manta spills from his vocals, words coming out deep and rich. He turns to Artemis, addressing her for the first time. "I can only assume you are the beautiful Tigress."

And now there is a slight flaw within Nightwing's plan. It's a minor mistake that arrives six months too late, and now it's here. But then again, perhaps it was always here: a man behind the mask. There is no black armor coating him, only a black suit and gold cuffs. Instead of neon red, his eyes are silver. He stands without defense. Yet now he is present, no longer just a form, and Artemis cannot help but note how both father and son seem to match in height. He has Kaldur's voice. Their high cheekbones are the same.

"Yes I am. You must be the rumored Black Manta."

The man who invites her to dinner envelops her hands with his, giving a firm shake. They all turned to the dining hall, empty save for them. It has been lavished for this occasion, and admittedly Artemis has never seen a room so elegant. As they reached the table, the silverware seems to shine. Kaldur pulls her chair out for her. Black Manta's lips tug faintly at this. A waiter provides them all with a tall glass of water.

"My apologies," Black Manta begins, "for failing to meet you sooner. Had I known we had such a lady in the vessel, I would have made more time for this."

It is Kaldur who speaks up at this, and he delivers his lines meticulously. "No father, it is me who should have informed you about Tigress. Forgive me. I had been too focused upon her to think little else." At the last line, Kaldur's eyes lingered on her exposed knees - a skilled actor.

"That, I believe." Black Manta turns to her. "Do tell me more about yourself, for all I can gather is your charming french accent."

Although neither Kaldur nor Artemis seems alarmed by this, a deep appreciation filled their chest, both inwardly grateful to Zantanna.

"You are an observant man." Artemis purrs. Purring and laughing, it fits wonderfully on that angle she is trying to play. She is no longer rough, warm, earthy Artemis. She is the new girl - the sexy, exclusive, secretive Tigress, french and presumably something more.

"Indeed. I have seen you on the training ground. You are quite competent with a bow and arrow. Your skill surpasses most of the archers within the submarine." Black Manta frown thoughtfully. "Where, if I may ask, did you develop such excellence?"

Tigress laughs airily. She does not give direct answers, for she is coy and, if she had her way, would string along anyone she pleases out forever. It is already a given that Black Manta had read her profile which Nightwing strategically planted, so of course, some of the appeal is already lost. But she answers him anyway. "It is not difficult coming from the League of Assassins."

Black Manta nods, feigning surprise. "Most impressive. However, I'm afraid I have lost all connections with Ra's al Ghul at this point. I do plan on regaining it in the near future."

There is no doubt that Black Manta will scrutinize her profile later on - perhaps he would even arrange a meeting with Ra's al Ghul - but by then it will be far too late. With Black Manta's army constantly under the depths of water, and the Assassins kept at bay by Bat and Birds, Nightwing had ensure this lie would last them two years - three at most.

"Please do." Tigress smiles, "It would be horrible to break ties after this mission is over." Her fingers are in close distance to those that are web and wrapped in blue cuffs around the wrist.

"Tigress is joining us, father. She proves to be a great asset." Kaldur hesitates, pausing for enough time. "If not for her, I would have taken a bit longer to defeat the green archer, and put our plan in jeopardy. It was Tigress who fired the bow to distract the archer, allowing me to kill her sooner."

Black Manta gives a ghost of a smile to show his approval. A number of waiters and waitresses comes back, carrying a wide range of superb delicacy, as well as a bottle of red wine. Tigress does not see the food, rather, the smile that had just played on Black Manta's face moments ago. She thinks of how similar it is to another, back when there was a patient, more gentle and soft spoken leader of a previous Team. He had use to smile back then - when he humored a boy wonder and speedster; when he had accompany a calm Superboy; when he talked to a white martian. Back when Tigress was Artemis and Kaldur'ahm was simply Kaldur.

But Artemis is never the one to lose her guard, and neither is Tigress. So when Black Manta wraps a napkin around his neck, she continues to speak. "I was trained in the League of Assassins at a tender age to be the best archer. Naturally I cannot allow other self proclaimed skilled archers to live. Do not be humble, Kaldur'ahm. You're not so bad yourself." She makes sure to end the note with a hint of sly interest. Black Manta's eyes seem to contain a fleeting amount of recognition, as his eyes drift from Kaldur to Tigress and back again. It appears then, an uplifting of the cheeks, yet broader and more visible. He pours wine into their glasses.

She moves and speaks her lines much like words from a script. But because two can play this game, Kaldur does not wait for a second to move when it's his turn. He drags one long and web finger lightly on her own. To anyone watching, this simple act alone brings a question to whether or not it was intentional, and cannot possibly be answered without being asked. But it seems Black Manta would not be doing anything of the sort, seemingly coming with an answer of his own. As they both prepare to dine, he continues to stare at his son. He raises his glass of wine, and before it touches his lips, whispered only words Kaldur can hear. Three quick Atlantean phrases.

Kaldur drops his fork. And now, a third player has entered the game.

Artemis looks up from her plate, confused. Black Manta, however, remain amused. Then, showing a bit of concern, said to Kaldur, "Kaldur'ahm, you are overworking again. You seem a little tired today. As I've said many times, you must relax - the new recruits can handle themselves."

Kaldur nods, bending down to pick up the silverware. Artemis is still confused. She has never seen Kaldur lose his composure, and she made sure that on most nights, he slept. She can only deduce it was something Black Manta said before. Exactly what was the question.

"Tigress, if I may ask, do take care of my son." Black Manta murmurs, before taking a sip of wine.

_Oh_. It dawns - a blessing. He has given Kaldur his approval. An undeniably human thing to do, but Black Manta has done it all with a smirk.

And as Kaldur rises from the ground, she sees something she has not seen in a while - two years now was it - and knows he isn't acting now. The smile is small and disappears quickly, but can be nothing but genuine.


	5. Parting

Young Justice is an American animated television series created by Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti for Cartoon Network. All copyright belongs to them.

...

For those that don't know, Raven and Kid Flash's romantic relationship is actually canon in the DC universe under a classical tragic love story. This is the link : top-10-titans-romances-raven/

...

Meeting up with him two and a half years later proved to be a somber one. It did not hold promise or euphoria or anything she came to believe eight months before. Instead, she just feels weights on top of her heart - tons of it. She has a good reason to, after all that's happened. The memories, the place, what needs to be said - _here and now_ - makes her **sink **under the grassy, solid, **ground**. She waits for him to speak.

He has changed (for better or worse she doesn't know) since then. He's gotten taller and more fit due to the immense training he's put his body back into. There's something about the way he stands as well - more firm and mature and weary - that catches her attention. His green eyes locked on to her with confidence, yet the way he rubs the back of his neck with his mitts said otherwise. He clears his throat and tells her he's back on the experiment.

Oh, she whispers. That's good.

Silence.

She didn't want it to have to come to this. She didn't for the last eight months. So she postponed their meeting, time and time again. That is, until he finally caught her and insisted that they _must_ talk, this is _urgent_ and he's _just so tired of waiting_ for her, that she relents. So she meets him on this chilly December day. Truth is, she's still running. Only verbally. She goes on with him about the experiment he's doing to buy some time before those words appear. It goes like this: she asked if it's working out for him. Yeah. It is, he replies. He's got his powers back after the injection. It wouldn't last long, but enough for four years, and he's quite satisfied with that.

Four years is a lot, she nods.

Four years is all he needs, he continues. Right now is the best time to don the suit, with Flash raising his family. So he's gotta do what he's gotta do. Besides, the suit is no different from the last. Just more red.

No longer kid. The way she says it holds too much sentiment. It leaves a bitter cold feel in the air, so she covers her neck some more to shield the warmth. The sorrow steeps into her anyway.

Kid Flash exist no more. He looks down. Maybe he's died on that day too. Whispers trail from his mouth.

Maybe, she agrees. And maybe he came back. Only this time, better. _Because _he's not a _kid_. _Because_ he's _Flash_.

His eyes still has hers with them. They spark for a moment. He smiles and her heart clenches. Maybe. He hums the thought and likes it.

When he turns to her again, the magic is broken. His eyes once again holds that serious look. Her heart unclenches but she takes on a fight or flight mode. The time has come, and she has stopped running. She didn't want it to have to come to this. If she had paid attention, she would have been able to see that he didn't want it either.

There's a reason why, he begins. That I've regained my powers, that is (The words appears and _cuts_ her). A reason I think you might know.

And she does. She just doesn't want to.

He doesn't know how to continue, so he stutters for a long time. It goes like this: It's just - I _have_ to, y'know?... well maybeyoudon't but...I've never, _never_ been so sure. So I have to go. It's the principle of the thing. It's -

Don't. She stops him. Don't. She goes to cover her ears, before it's too late, but he's already there. He catches her arm and continues so steady, so calmly.

It's the right thing.

So there. He's won, and she lets her arm fall down to her side, defeated. He does not stop to wait for her; he is Flash now, so he won't stop, will never stop until four years later. He will continue to speed ahead because the rest of the world is too slow. He does this now, firing an explanation in rapid pace. He has to go to the Teen Titans. He does. It's where Nightwing is. It's where Robin is. It's where Superboy is. It's where Impulse is. And because Impulse it there, he has to be there. Four years. Four years to train Impulse up to be the next Flash.

She sees the logic in this. Despite the fact that he thinks she can't cope, she does. Who else is more fitted to be the next Flash other than Impulse? She sees more than he does. She sees him chasing shadows of a former Team. And she understands. Because to be alone right now is unbearable and tiring. He's just the kind to be with other people. Like Dick Grayson and Tim Drake and Conner and Bart Allen. Like -

Raven. She blurts out. He stares at her. It's where Raven is. Her voice breaks, making her sound hurt. She does not want to sound hurt at the most critical part of the conversation. She steadies herself, because she is strong enough for this. I know. Deep breathes. I understand.

He stares at her, searching. She does not break. She does not bend. He lets out his breath, and looks at her with sorrow eyes (Please don't hurt, she thinks. Not for me. Please don't). He plows forward, regardless of being stuck, despite _tripping _and _falling_. I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He trembles. I never ever want you to be hurt. Never ever. If I could, I would stay. For you.

She knows he means it. That's just how he is. Because even if he has plenty of faults she knows that he really loved her once. She smiles sadly at him, because she pities that he carries two in his heart.

Go.

He trembles. He shakes. He still can't get the words out. I don't know, he laughs (It sounds unstable). I can't be sure if I'm happy with her existence or not.

But you love her.

God, yes. Yes I do.

Then go. Because she's waiting.

The last words come out. It's done. She looks at him, and he looks at her, but nothing more can be said. He nods at her and they both share a small smile of a farewell. A small understanding. They part ways, with him leaving first, making fresh trails from the snow. She watches him get smaller and smaller.

Until she can't watch him anymore. That's when she does it.

"Wally!" She yells his name for him ears only.

He turns.

She yells for him to understand; it's her turn to tell him how she feels. She means every word of what she's about to say because it's all from the deepest, most true part of herself. It can't get anymore simpler. She cries for him. "I loved you." She did. She does. "I loved you, I really did."

He's at her side at once. "I know." He holds her up. "I know." He crushes her with his grip around her and looks her in the eye. "But you'll never be alone." He lets go, watching her. He waits for her to get it, but she doesn't (Not now. Too much grief, he thinks). She doesn't right now, but he does. He knows he left her in good, steady, warm and reliable hands. Web hands that belonged to his leader and his other best friend. He knows he can count on **him**.

He holds his hand out for her. "One last time Artemis."

She smiles - a true and lovely one (It makes his heart leap). She takes his hand.

They walk, hand in hand out of the graveyard.


	6. Passing

Young Justice is an American animated television series created by Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti for Cartoon Network. All copyright belongs to them.

...

The footsteps that fell were so light that he almost didn't hear it. When he looks up, he sees silver eyes, and they flicker at one another with a vague sense of recognition. The man he sees is wearing a black jacket, the collar covering his throat, hiding those gills. He himself is dressed in more red than yellow today. A moment passes when, in a dream like fashion, he reaches for the other man and they pull to a embrace. It does not last long, and they step apart to give their attention to more important matters. The man he is meeting greets him first, and he expects it no other way.

"Wally."

After licking his dry lips, he responds.

"Kaldur."

These are the voices of two friends meeting. His is lighter and nervous and cracks due to the strain he puts it in. Kaldur's is deeper and calm and smooth due to the practice of reassurance, patience, humoring of, and occasional lies it has used. Both contain a grave tone, and the two friends seem to have prepared themselves for a serious and important conversation.

But because it was only polite, small talk was made.

"I've heard of your experiment. Is it going alright?"

"Oh. That. Yeah, it's good." He shakes his head and rubs his fingers. It's a current topic - nothing new - that's been the talk these days. He had to get his speed back anyhow, with Barry going and raising a family. Besides, it made for a better talk than most things that has happened. "Just had to get back that formula and increase the amplitude and stuff. Wasn't hard."

"Did your body take it well?"

Wally offers Kaldur a weak grin and snorts. "Hurted like hell. Almost seemed like the first time I did it, back in middle school. Actually, scratch that - much worse than the first time. Had to sit down for three days before my molecules became stable again."

A deep chuckle emits from Kaldur's throat. "It is to be expected. The title of Flash is difficult. It is very becoming - the red suits you."

Wally rubs his palms on the back of his head. He couldn't take all the credit for coming back as Flash. Things have happened, and he couldn't (more of a wouldn't) come back as Kid Flash anymore. "More of Bart's idea than, well, mine."

Kaldur nods. "He's grown quite fond of you."

"Yeah." He shrugs. He looks at Kaldur almost timidly, his voice guarded and careful. "Yeah."

The silence after seems to echo through the deserted hall of Mount Justice. There seems to be more cobwebs than the month prior, and the musty scent seems to grow ever stronger.

"He...wanted me to be his mentor. So I thought...I thought I'd give it a try."

Kaldur nods, indicting him to go on. So Wally does, all the while looking down. He has no idea why he sounds so nervous, after all, this was Kaldur, and Kaldur would respect any decision he would ever make. But there it was again, and he almost can't get the words out fast enough. "It for the best. Impulse, he needs me. And Barry's counting on me." Wally hates how he sounds right now, including people as if it matters - as if it made his decision seemed more important - like it held significance. He sounds almost desperate, and he knows there's no need to be. He's acting like Kaldur's not understanding at all, although he knows very well that it's the opposite.

"I've only got four years to make the most of it. I got to make it count."

"So you would be leaving today?"

Wally stops short. Kaldur stands waiting.

"Yeah."

He had expected some kind of struggle from Kaldur - ridiculous he knows - but Kaldur simply stood there, looking, and his face showed neither approval nor disappointment. Instead, he utters another question:

"Did you tell her?"

Questions upon questions - but this one. This one. It makes him think back, when there was a time he had to hold the weight of two literally. It wasn't that long ago, two months best, but he could still feel the tears that had imprinted themselves to his hoodie that time. Artemis didn't seem like she could hold her own weight. When he intertwined her hands with his, for what could be their last intimate moment together, she had made it so much harder. She had made sure it was all that it could be worth of, and if he had been any weaker of a man, he would have fell back again to her once more. This wasn't something that could be answered easily, and Kaldur wanted depth.

"At the cemetery. She was standing _right there_. It was probably wasn't the time to tell her...but I couldn't...there wasn't any other way to reach her." Wally's back was leaning on the wall, and it slides an inch towards the ground. "She liked her a lot - they were like sisters." He's mumbling again.

"We all liked her." Kaldur didn't have anything else to say. It was the truth. And yet, even as he says it, perhaps it was because of the truthful nature of the statement did it make it much more real. They had known her longer than most; she was apart of their stream - their time - something that belonged to them only. It's not a big deal for the new members; Wonder Girl, Blue Beetle, Robin, and the others would be sad, no doubt. But none of them would always be wondering at the middle of the night, restless and cold. Nightwing would be musing of how it could have been the other way around, a number of other possibilities that involved her ending up not dead. Superboy would smash things but he won't ever feel satisfied. Artemis would buy flowers every other day of the week and place it on top of the tomb. Beast Boy would cry. Kaldur would arrange his mental shelf again, this time making more room for her. Wally would have a lingering feeling in his chest, a weird one because someone he knows, _liked_ a lot a one point, is gone. They'll all be wondering where she's gone to.

At one point they had to move on. It has only been two months since the invasion has ended, but they had to cope quickly. They were heroes who didn't look after themselves - they had others to worry for. Maybe it was because Mount Justice didn't feel like home anymore; two members have died and the others have been promoted to the Justice League. At any case, they had left it to grow old and dusty. They don't call themselves Young Justice anymore. It's a new group with a new feel, and a new name called the Teen Titans. Anything it takes to move from the past, but it was only reserved for the ones that were willing. And just like Superboy, Nightwing, Robin, Blue Beetle, Wonder Girl, Batgirl, Bumblebee, and Duncan, Wally had to go somehow. They had to pick up the pieces in a different way, even if it meant abandoning Young Justice and going on without others who fell out from them. None of that matter because they were still fighting for something.

Wally sometimes wondered why Artemis and Kaldur didn't join them. He brought it put on one occasion with Kaldur. "Well, why don't you?" Kaldur would simply reply that he is needed elsewhere. Today, Wally doesn't ask again. He knows where Kaldur is suppose to be, and hopes he stays there long enough.

"I wanted to ask you for something for the longest time." Wally's voice is urgent when he most wants it to be. This was one of those times. "When I left her, she was still...not well. Out of it. I can't stay with her anymore, and I'm sure the support she needs - it isn't from me." He wonders how he can continue from here, because the last note breaks off unevenly. Even now Kaldur has to be the one he relies on. He knows it isn't fair, with Kaldur already being the support post for others, and yet it was only put until recently he had stopped being deemed as a traitor. Wally wonders briefly for a second - he was being absurd - if he should get on his knees and beg. He doesn't have to.

"I will do my best."

There was no disappointment or worries - Kaldur doesn't show them. Only a set of determined features. Kaldur is a man of his word. When he says something, he means it.

"How long have you've known?"

"I believe I knew before you did."

Wally turns that thought over in his head. He wanted to say something to let Kaldur know how grateful he is. He could find no words that could be strong enough to make him understand. He doesn't have to. When he looks up he sees Kaldur wearing a look that makes his stop short. Kaldur's lips part and curve gently upwards, his eyes numbingly warm and gentle. He finds that he can't bring himself to say a "thank you". Not because he didn't want to, but because it isn't needed. Wally wonders if he and countless others would ever stop owing Kaldur. He wonders even more if Kaldur is ever going to learn how to say "No", and if he is ever going to develop a sense of exasperation. Highly unlikely.

Silence takes over once more, but it wasn't the bad kind. A quiet pondering took place, a last attempt to sort out thoughts. It became quite long until they suddenly remembered where they were, and how they each had some place to be.

There is no doubt nor goodbyes when they shake hands again. Each felt a warm glow settle on their palms and spread through their fingertips. They don't know when they'll meet next, but they are certain that day would be far off.

Kaldur doesn't say anything more than how the red suits Wally. It's not very impressive, but Kaldur is a man of his word. When he says something, he means it.

Wally wonders if Kaldur saw his duffel bag on the way in, next to the Zeta tubes. In a way this makes the closure more final that he would have thought.

He doesn't take a moment of hesitation - Kaldur closes his eyes - and he's gone in a flash.


	7. Rain

Young Justice is an American animated television series created by Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti for Cartoon Network. All copyright belongs to them.

...

"Time moves you know."

Artemis paused and looked up from the term paper she was typing. "Yeah."

His physics textbook lays open on the far left side of the desk, temporarily forgotten at the moment. Wally smiles, "But get this - it slows down too."

She nods, not quite following, and upon this his lips parts a bit more.

"Time moves at different rates, always active. It's not a universal thing. It _bends_." He leans back on his chair, can't help but relish at these sudden thoughts on movement and time, and how he's saved pockets of it. "Time goes by you if you move really slow." He weights the words with emphasis, and can nearly see the gears in her head churning. "So time moves slow..."

"...when you go really fast."

"Einstein's theory of relativity." He states proudly. It's a slow, lazy day. Just now Dick had informed him that they're throwing a grand welcome for the new boy wonder, it's Conner's birthday in about next week, Beastboy can finally shift into a green stripe tiger, and how Kaldur is considerably happy with a Aquagirl joining the ranks. The seconds are ticking by ever so slowly, at least to everybody except him on this day where golden lights are streaming in the library windows, and he finds that he doesn't mind.

...

She doesn't know why she's taking Physics.

It's been three years since she's last been in college, and quite truthfully, she has long since lost the feel of being in a place as normal as school. She muses if an absence form with be enough to cover the fact that she's been underneath oceans and seas for the first two years, and fighting an invasion just last year.

Artemis stares at the test, and bit by bit she pulls herself back to view the letters that stand stationary once more. Six minutes left, she thinks, drumming her pencil. It's boring, crude work - nothing he hadn't taught her yet - and she had easily answered a third of it fifteen minutes in. It would have been better if she had taken another course.

Still. She's on her way to question twenty-two and still yet she's half made her mind to stick with it, at least until the year is over. Something is tying her down on the spot, and above all, she knows that she isn't doing this for him. It's not like Wally's pushing her to it, or even knows. She wonders how Raven and him are keep up - with the current team that is, yes, strictly because of that.

She stares out the window to find that clouds are rolling by.

...

Superboy visits her. She figures there's a first time for everything. And it's quite a sight to see that he looks the same, even after everybody else has changed. He says that he's come to see if she's alright. He's even brought her some take out they can share later.

They share a bit of an update of what's happening. He fills her in more or less what the Teen Titans are doing now, and how the Justice League are really starting to let them take over. She asks if Kaldur knows, and if he has joined them by now. Conner states that he and the rest of the team haven't been able to see Kaldur lately, though he is most likely fine, as Nightwing is still keep tabs with him. School wise, Conner has just about aces everything. She asks if his midterms are done, and if he really is going to study aboard.

Well, he says, that team can manage without him for a good year for so. He isn't worried.

Yeah, well she is. "Are you really okay? Are you sure that it isn't about...other things?"

"I'm good. I just need to be by myself for a while."

"Then why are you here?"

Silence.

She whispers, and it's good that he has super hearing. "We both lost someone, you know. Don't go it alone."

She's lousy at conversations with him, she knows. She just can't put words subtly enough. He can't really seem to speak his mind. They are both inverted towards each other. Perhaps that's why he throws his arms around her, due to lack of a better way to express himself, and they sway like that for a moment or two.

It's the first he's really come to reach only her and care for only her. She hopes it isn't the last.

...

Some days she'll be willing enough to go and visit the tomb to bring flowers. Today she finds it with the company of many others. She sits near it for a while, unsure of where to begin. After all, she still has so many things to say. The problem is, she doesn't know where to start. So she begins with Superboy and how he'll be studying in China starting next month. She throws in trivial topics, at lost with what to say. Considering that she isn't the type to force a conversation, she grows silent and gives up altogether. Today she figures that she'll sit and watch the grass grow. She sits until the sky is looking heavy enough to cry.

Artemis gets up to dust her jeans. She promises to visit soon after her finals. As she exits the gate, there is no response to meet her statement.

Responses are just one of those things M'gann can no longer provide.

...

People still go in and out of her life. Just because she quit the team doesn't mean they quit on her. Roy, Jade and the minors had to leave early, but all the same they made sure to see to it that she was well. Bart, Tim, Garfield and Jaime exit by piling their gifts near the window. She's glad almost everybody manage to come, with the night still young. It's her twenty-third birthday, and despite the fact that she has a term paper due the day after the next, Karen's already handing out the Budweiser.

"Who bought the alcohol?" Mal ask.

Zatanna winked. However, they were careful as to not give any to Raquel, who was three weeks pregnant. Artemis sits herself quite comfortably on the loveseat, and listens as Cassandra tells her of how she's also thinking of studying aboard, at least to see new things. Mal and Karen are swaying to the slow music. Conner is pouring a glass of Budweiser for himself and La'gaan. Dick leans forward towards Barbara, whispering something to her ear.

She sees Wally and Raven in the back. They talk, surrounded by only themselves and the music. Artemis feels something constricting in her chest, perhaps it's been there since the party began. She stares too long - it becomes apparent when he stares back. He smiles, and Raven waves. The heavy feeling loosens considerably; its hold is almost nearly gone. She waves and smiles back, and this time it does not feel hallow.

Around 10:30 pm., Artemis has another feeling wrapping around her. Again, she's not sure if it had started around the beginning of the party - with its presence being muddied, and even more so after a glass of Budweiser - but she finds the need to ask now.

"Well actually, I haven't been seeing Kaldur a lot these days either." Zatanna knits her eyebrows together, deep in thought, and then drops her voice down to a whisper. "The last I've heard was Nightwing trying to recruit him to Teen Titans. Either way, I'm sure he's fine." With that, she disappears to hail Raquel a cab.

Near the breakfast bar, Wally bites his lower lips with concern. Dick heads over to Artemis, just as Zatanna gets up to escort Raquel, and nonchalantly slips something blue, gold, and shining into her pocket. She looks up, befuddled, but he just gives her one of his knowing smiles. She reaches her back pocket to pull a necklace with small, delicate, gold chains and frames. Embedded in it is a dark blue shining gem. Written on it is an Atlantean phrase.

...

The party wanes around midnight. The necklace has moved from Artemis's back pocket to her neck. She doesn't have to heart to tell everybody to get out, and besides, nobody's made a move towards the door. But one by one they file towards the exit around 1:00 am., and each gives Artemis their respect. Nobody says goodbye.

...

Weeks later, she wakes up one morning to find the clouds looking gray, blocking most of the sky. She allows herself, just for a moment, to think of how it covers the sun, how it's like she's almost back under deeper grounds - that is, of oceans and seas. When she looks out the window, she can almost see various fishes gliding along.

Fishes and then tigress. A tigress makes her think of a girl that doesn't look like her, but is identical to her otherwise. Tigress and then gills. Fishes have gills. Certain magical humans who reside in Atlantis do too. Gills and then webbed hands, and strange, dark tattoos.

...

She ask him what he was doing. Overhead, numerous clouds had already taken a menacing hue of gray. Big, round, drops of water came pelting down.

It's been raining for several days now, and as it would have it, Artemis had to step out to restock on food. Rain gets everywhere, including under her umbrella. By the time she made her way back to her apartment, the rain had sprinkled her jacket and gotten her hair wet.

It's hard to describe her reaction when she sees him, standing in the rain, looking at her window (or perhaps through it, to look for her). That and the fact that nobody has seen him for so long, that it becomes unreal to see him here, after five months being gone. As she stumbles forward, he becomes aware of her presence and turns to face her.

It's a rainy Sunday, and she finds Kaldur standing outside the entrance to her apartment flat.

His black jacket is clinging to his skin - he's chilled to the bone. Kaldur doesn't show anything as water continues to slide off his back, his cheekbones, his nose. He hasn't even got an umbrella with him. Funny, she's never took him as the careless type. Perhaps he doesn't need it at all.

He still didn't answer her question; he only looks at her with somber, brilliant grey eyes. His expression was neither grim nor happy. Neutral. At yet, even though he looks onto her steadily, calmly, without any bit of doubt, she still finds it all so incredibly unbearable. It's like he's lost something. It's like he's back on the submarine, tired and weary and restless. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.

She asks him if he's alright. For the longest time they stand, her umbrella forgotten, their clothes taking up moisture until they begin to form puddles.

He's at lost. He opens his mouth, and any words that are about to come out dies. She's never seen him with so little composure before; but she stands still and waits for him. He steadies himself, looks down to meet her face, and takes her cold, numb figures with his own web ones. As his tongue flickers to begin, she finds that she has missed his voice. He parts his lips, tells her that he doesn't know, and proceed to ask her to dance anyway.


	8. Sick

Young Justice is an American animated television series created by Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti for Cartoon Network. All copyright belongs to them.

...

When Kaldur steps out of Artemis's shower, the rain outside seemed to be pelting the windows with enough force to produce a low rattling sound. He finds a red shirt and black pants waiting on the hook of the door, and proceeds to dress himself. He didn't plan to stay overnight - perhaps he shouldn't have came at all.

He still has not told her why he's here. Granted, she didn't ask, and the thunder had drowned both their voices from being heard. Although, if she did, he wouldn't be able to conger an answer; he's not even sure he knows the reason behind it either.

All he knows is that he desperately wants to reach her - to find comfort with someone who understands. Dick Grayson understands well enough on why he's been missing lately. He knows why Kaldur's been at Atlantis for three months, even though everybody else has been kept in the dark about it. Trials are hard business, but Kaldur insists. It was he who betrayed his king and all of Atlantis, and naturally he would have to face the consequences. Roughly ninety days in prison cells while the League vouches for him has taken more away from him than he thought. Nightwing is the only member of Teen Titans who knew of his ordeal and participated with the League.

Yes, Dick Grayson understands well enough, but it's not the kind Kaldur needs.

Who he needs is the sole person that was with him, when his mind suddenly snapped under M'gann, when he felt like he was sure to fall into an abyss. When it was him against his father, his lord, his team, his world, both sea and ground.

He needs her.

Dark times under dark ocean, and when Wally and Dick delivered Artemis to him, well, he had only hoped she wasn't consumed by it. And for the most part, she wasn't.

He wonders when this need for her has become this unbearable. He's sure that it was probably a few weeks after she had joined him in the submarine. That's when he needed her most - _nights were meant for her to hold him _- especially when his mind ceased to function after M'gann's assault. At least, that should have been when it all started. But if he was honest with himself, (it's becoming harder these days) it was most likely further back, to more pleasant times.

When she first met him she said he was something. _Something_ she said, with a lace of respect. He didn't say it at that time, but he thought it; she was something too.

It's in the first arrow she ever shot to introduce herself to the team. It's in the way she walks. Her rough language and her fierce, daring exterior, wrapping around a softer mold.

No, if he was honest with himself, he would admit she had gotten him from the beginning.

But he wasn't. And he can't be honest about something he doesn't know.

It's been a while. Kaldur isn't sure what to do with these feelings anymore, the ones that won't leave, and settles to pushes down the internal swelling for the moment. He was here now, and its best to leave by next morning.

The shirt he is wearing is a comfortable fit; he is sure it belonged to Wally some time before. It was just one of those things people have in the closets, even though it should have been very well been thrown away or given back. Wally just left it here, and for some reason, Artemis still kept it. Strangely enough, the thought tugs the corner of his mouth downwards. He wonders why.

"Artemis?"

He peers through the living room and her kitchen, and finds it empty. Prodding his feet on the wood lightly, he knocks gently at her bedroom door. After a moment, he steps back as the door swings open, and sees Artemis has changed her attire to something more loose and her hair undone.

"Oh. Kaldur. What is it?"

He opens his mouth, perhaps to question if the shirt he's wearing was indeed Wally's, but instead changes at mid sentence upon taking notice of the rasp in her voice. He raises his eyebrows by a fraction, his eyelids widen slightly with concern. "Are you sick?"

"What?" She takes notice of her voice. "Oh. I...it must be from the rain, I guess."

Kaldur brings his hands up and touch her forehead. Her cheeks. Her neck. Then he frowns slightly. "You are rather warm. If I'm not mistaken, you might be developing a fever."

"Standing in the rain will do that to you."

Her mouth smiles, and so does her eyes. Kaldur thinks that the pink that flows in her cheeks is a good color on her. In any case, she takes the sickness in stride, nothing too different from years before. Kaldur's at the ready; he's taken care of small robins and Martians and Atlanteans and a number of sorts. He walks over to her sink and pours her a glass of water, and fiddles through her cabinets for some medicine pills. When he returns, he noticed her body huddled with a blanket. He puts down the glass just when she gives a small sniffle.

"I am sorry for my unexpected visit. It was spontaneous on my part."

She opens up her cocoon of sheets, and shifts over to make room for him. "I don't mind, really." She whispers. "Just surprised. Besides, I never got to go out and..." She trails off.

He edges nearer to her, indicting he doesn't mind if she finishes her sentence. "It's just that...you're here. You are aren't you?"

He nods. Yes, he's very much here with her.

"It's not everyday I go out and find you."

She laughs a pretty laugh, and Kaldur feels the warmth of her thigh radiating to his. He thinks of how thin the sheets wrapped around her are, but ultimately the only thing separating her persons from his. She rest her sore head on his broad shoulders, her breath giving hot ghost wisps. She's really too close. Not that she knows this. Not that he's fully aware of it.

She didn't ask him for anymore detail as to where he's been for the past few months, and he finds he likes this arrangement. Sooner or later, he'll tell. But for now, there's too much legs exposed, hair covering her otherwise naked neck. Amongst the gold strains, something glittered -

"It best to take it off. It might chill your neck."

Artemis looks down. "The necklace? I've been wearing it since I got it."

"Always?"

"Nearly."

Kaldur emits a deep chuckle from his throat. The necklace was strange like that - it never absorbed any body heat, the gold remaining as cold as the ocean waters. She traces the Atlantean character over with her thumb, her mind trying to decipher what her eyes can not. He contents himself by studying her instead of his gift, and finds her expression tranquil beyond words. It's the slight curling of the lip, the faint colors on her cheeks, her eyes careful and her mind moving that does him. Or rather, sends a quiet flutter around his ribcage. He withdraws his right hand from her hip. He tries to remember exactly when his left had start fiddling with the ends of her hair.

She shifts herself onto his lap, breathing in his scent, fingers making the faintest contact with his gills as she wraps them around his neck. His dark tattoos did not go untouched.

"Artemis...?"

"I'm sorry. Just - just for a moment...okay?"

The fever has made her drowsy and dull. Her face feels hot on his neck. Her heat transmitted to his chest, lap, and any surface area of his covered by her.

Minutes slip by, and she falls asleep. Kaldur lays on the couch, trying to keep things as neutral as possible by edging away slowly from her sleeping form. It proves to be a difficult task; she has nestled onto him. He's struggling to think, and it's rare because it hardly happens. But seconds seem to race and slow down, and information gets tangled around the core of his thinking. No, he shouldn't be this affected with her presence. He's been around her for far too long, been close friends for years. They had even played off as being lovers. At least he thinks so, because he isn't entirely sure. Her hair was tickling his chin.

A fade off memory tells him it's true. Somewhere underneath dark oceans, he's seen her in a dress. Coy smiles were thrown casually for good measure. They had a quiet game of cat and mouse, while constant whispers, whispers about them persisted behind locked doors of the submarine. Except - were those her fingers making slow circles around his back? He lets go of the breath he didn't know he was holding.

Except.

This was no longer a game, this much he knows. It's become too real and dangerous. Too deep to even think about properly. Gone were the disguise and actors. She and he are not in formal wear or anything decent enough to be labeled strictly as friends. That, and actors are not suppose to stray from the script.

He drums his webbed fingers lightly on her fingers, like a pianist.

Do Atlanteans blush? He doesn't know.

There's a storm outside raging, and it seems like there's one inside as well. She moves her head a bit, so that her mouth was near his ear. She mumbles incoherent words, and he can only catch a few, something about physics and China. Her voice seems to pull his body half back underneath hers, and he's trapped again. She mumbles a lot of other things: The Teen Titans, meeting Raven for tea, cramming for subjects. He thinks whoever her dream self was talking to, it was most likely M'gann. More mumble, until finally, something of interest catches his ear. When it slips from her mouth, he didn't expect it to be anything more than a drowsy slur. But like always, she surprises him. No, his name comes out clear, without a hint of sleep, almost like a song.

Strange, he's feeling an incredibly rapid thumping around his chest.

Her position changes once again. Her mouth leaves her ear, and travels across his cheek bones. It comes nearer to the corner of his mouth, and impulsively, his tongue flickers to wet his lips.

She halts, but does not wake. Kaldur waits for a moment longer, until it becomes clear her body has returned to being stationary.

No matter. Her lips are a turn from his. He could still plant a kiss. Or two. She wouldn't know.

For the longest time he sits and thinks how it could be his best kept secret.

They stayed entwined. The clock above the breakfast bar read 9:40 p.m. Rain, thunder and lightning make their presence known to all but Artemis, who would have surely woken up if Kaldur's hands and chest didn't lightly covered her ear. All she could hear was the steady, if not slightly, fast beating of an Atlantean heart. Not that she knows this. Not that he's fully aware of the reason.

When the clock hit 10:12 p.m., the rain had stopped, clouds opening to a starry sky. Artemis is tucked in bed, Wally's pants and shirt neatly folded in her closet, and a cup of hot tea is placed on top of her desk.

Should she wake up in the middle of the night, she would find it waiting for her, replacing an Atlantean man who was with her just moments ago.

He steps into the street, back in his normal attire. It's been a while. Kaldur isn't sure what to do with these feelings anymore, the ones that won't leave. The ones that sag under his secrets, which, he's got half a mind to give all away. Secrets upon secrets. Today he carries a new one - his best kept secret.

Still. His secret is only a secret if it's kept. It's a delicate thing that has to be tread on lightly, and will ultimately disappear with carefully chosen words. All he has to do is say it.

But he couldn't. And he can't be honest about something he doesn't know.


	9. Found

Young Justice is an American animated television series created by Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti for Cartoon Network. All copyright belongs to them.

...

Artemis wakes up abruptly at the quarter to twelve. She brushes against her pillow, not sure why or if she's truly out of slumber. In any case, the heat is still present. It coats her, trying to sink her back into bed. The flat, she thinks, has become silent.

Rolling to her side, the first thing she notices is her mug, sitting on her desk. She blinks at it.

She leaps out of bed - her blankets fling off at her eagerness, but she can hardly bring herself to care - and trods over to the kitchen. Halting at the spot, her naked heel taps on the floor boards. Only, it's empty. She checks the bathroom, gives one glance at the living room, and settles down. She brushes a few strands of hair out of her face, and her sigh comes out thickly, a tad bit of emotion she can't place, before heading back to her bedroom.

She can't help but feel a little odd, a little disoriented.

She opens, nearly shoves her window wide open. She does not scan the city - she does not dare to think about the numbness in her bones. She only thinks about how rainless the night is, and how very cold she was, both inside and out. Her fingers play gently across her lips. And then, from the end of her throat, it comes out as a whisper:

"Kaldur?"

...

It's a brief, sort of fleeting feeling.

For the first few nights, she looks out the window. She sits and waits, out of habit, mostly. She can't think of why else she would sit so absent-minded, staring out.

It happens every other night.

For the first few weeks, she thinks how she wouldn't mind more rain. She finds that she likes stormy weathers of the late. Something about the color - gray, blue, (only cool color palette) - and the mood - somber, clean and intriguing - draws her in.

Something about it reminding her of him.

She sits on the couch, hands enveloping her necklace. If it does rain, she wonders if he would come here, waiting for her to open the doors. It's funny, she use to only like sunny and clear skies.

For the first time, Artemis wishes it would rain.

...

The talk comes up from time to time, splurged from her friends. It happens again on Tuesday, nearly a month after. They're at the locker room, just finished with their volleyball tournament (which they had won), when the conversation beginnings again.

"I really do think David would be good for you." Her friend said, in an offhand way.

"Oh no, not this again Kelly. Let's not - " Artemis tries to say, only everybody else is now brought to attention about it.

"Yeah, he's pretty and cute."

"And everything in between."

"What about upstairs?"

Emily laughs, "Think he's pretty decent, but he asked me about what the answer was to 11b on the exam yesterday. _The answer to 11b_. Really. And when I told him, he still didn't - "

"Emily, this isn't about his brain size."

Her friends continue to bicker lightly, but it was the playful banter kind. After all, their victory on the game still tasted sweet on their tongues, and they only brought up David Daniels because they wanted to further push their luck on Artemis. Fresh towels were draped on the benches, and the lockers were being slammed shut and locked again. A little to the side, Emily and Sarah put away their belongs and entered separate shower stalls. The water was running, but low enough that they could still be heard.

"He was into you."

"I don't know why you turned him down, Artemis."

Artemis let out a fond sigh. In truth, she still hasn't dated anyone, not after Wally. "I think you guys should get out of my love life and into that room we rented for karaoke."

They laugh good heartily, and Artemis could have swore she heard still Emily mumbling about question 11b as she entered one of the stalls.

It's not that she doesn't appreciate their concern, but all the same, she's beginning to think that her friends want more than what she could give; they are all confused and think she needs to get over West. But she is.

Artemis steps out of the shower with them, and tugs her shirt over her head. It's just, she ponders, chewing the side of her cheek, there's only so much she could give to find a person she's interested in, especially if she already has that individual.

"Artemis, come on, you arrow head." Faint laughter echoed through the locker room.

"Yeah, be right there - " She grasp the end of her necklace.

She waiting for somebody. She just doesn't know who.

...

Five weeks pass before she hears from David again.

"Never knew you were so into myths."

She looks up from the book she was holding, to find him peering down at her. The school library was usually empty on a Saturday night. "Oh. Yeah, I am. Guess that's kinda weird, huh?"

"No, no. Not at all. I...like it."

She brushes a strand of hair back. "Well...thanks, David. I'm actually heading home now. Archery practice with the team has got me pretty tired."

"Oh? Wow, you sure are sporty."

The librarian comes over to shush them. David is decidedly quiet after that, and caresses the nape of his neck with his palms. He has clear blue eyes and blond hair. His dimples show when he smiles. The rumors about him were true; he is a very nice looking adolescent. Perhaps a bit too eager to please, as he pointingly opens the door for her, but all the same a kind boy. Her friends want her to date him.

"Hey, I should walk you back. It's pretty dangerous to be out alone."

"I can manage, don't worry about it." She gives a small smirk of confidence and waves him off.

But just as she turns to go, he grabs her arm. "I try, but I can't."

She blinks in surprise.

In the end, he walks her back, and as they near her steps, she sees the quiver of his lips. He is a nice boy. Her friends want her to date him.

"Artemis," He rounds at her, "I know I asked you before...but I want you to know - it's okay. About us, um, not being..." His eyes drop.

"Yeah...yeah. Thanks, David."

They laugh, abet awkwardly. She even drops her book in the process.

As he bends over to pick it up, he teases again. "It's the myth book." He flips over to see the cover, and his eyes narrow in confusion at the title. "Strange language."

"It's a language book - I've been trying to look up a word. It's this country - Atlantis, actually."

"Interesting place, but I never heard of it." He hands it back to her, and bids her good night. He just about reaches the last step when the corner of her lips curve, and she calls out not a moment too late.

"Want to?"

...

"We're still willing. You know, if you're still interested."

The television in Zatanna's living room is still on, the faint chatter filling up the silence that followed. Normally Zatanna wouldn't bring up Teen Titans with Artemis, much less ask if she wants to join again - it's usually covered by Wally. However, today she decides to do it because she can. That, and there's a theory she wants to look into. She gazes at Artemis's half finished dinner, as the girl swirls the morsel around her plate.

"I'll let you know if I ever am."

The fork Artemis holds doesn't leave the surface of the plate. The yes is nearly steeping out. All Zee needs is an incentive, and if her theory is right, she might get it no later than today.

_You want to grab the attention of the audience, of course. But the key to make it magnificent, Zee, is to start out slow. String them along before the impact hits,_ said Zatara, before he made a dove appear out of his cape, and handed it to his then thirteen-year-old daughter.

"Good." Zatanna answers perfunctorily. She gets up to collect the plates and heads to the kitchen, but not before calling out, "Robin's really getting into the leadership role."

She hears Artemis's reply as the tap water splashes in the sink. "I think it has something to do with kids his age, like Impulse and Blue Beetle. And the new recruits. Nightwing wasn't nearly as lucky."

"Hm. Yeah. That Spoiler does seems to have an affect on him." Zee pauses. "But you know, I think it has something to do with his mentor."

Soap bubbles are beginning to form after some scrubbing. "It might be."

"'He's more steady than Nightwing. More understanding and patient.' At least that's what Robin said. Think Aqualad was the same for Nightwing when he started out?"

She's about to rip a paper towel, when she notices the long pregnant pause. She spins around to see the expected surprise and bewilderment etched on Artemis's face. "What?"

"Aqualad's mentoring Robin. I asked if he taught the same way for Nightwing."

"I heard that," She states, slowly, "...but wait, that means - "

"Yeah, Nightwing's either off doing Gotham business, or slacking off. Most likely the latter." Zatanna snorts and turns back to the sink. Then, without any transition, she goes off, saying, "Raquel's baby shower is in a few weeks. Think we should go gift shopping?"

As presumed, she was only greeted with the blare of the television.

"Artemis?"

"Huh? Oh. Yes. Okay." Artemis struggles a bit to keep up with the sudden change of topic. "Definitely." Her mind's still reeling.

Zatanna takes out her phone; she doesn't seem to notice the sudden lack of interest with the conversation. At least, she was very particular in what not to show. "Okay," She mumbles, pushing the tiny buttons, "Saturday it is, then. Huh, can I honestly wait that long?"

Artemis blinks and clears her thoart. "Probably not," she counters, having finally refocused, and heads over to grab her coat. She buttons up and pecks Zatanna's cheek hastily. She just about to go when she decides it wouldn't hurt, for clarification sake, to ask. "About what you said - "

Zatanna doesn't bat an eyelash. "He'd joined last week. Kaldur." She clarifies, and looks her in the eye, waiting.

"Ah."

"Yep."

Artemis twisted the knob a bit, but it didn't look like she was leaving yet.

"So I'll see you then, arrow head."

"Yeah." The door opens just a crack.

Zatanna turns around and counts from five. When she hits zero, the door shuts behind her.

"You know," Artemis begins quietly, facing her back, "I think I will. That is, if you still want me."

Zatanna doesn't turn back, and nods to show she's heard. It's only when the door closes for good that she utters a single phrase. "Etacol ginwthgiN dna mrifnoc."

...

The bow and arrows were still there when she came back to get them. Not a single speck of dirt touched them. Suddenly, she felt an immense wave of warmth gushing around her insides as she reaches for them.

"Thanks." She held it up and flex the string. "Ollie, I don't know what to say - "

"Rule no. 1: Never speak of my real name when we're on patrol."

"We're on patrol?" She breathes, all at once.

She didn't mean for it to come out that way, like she was too eager. It sounds just like it did on her very first night out with him. Green Arrow, with his impressive equipment and impish smirk runs to the edge of the building. He shoots an arrow with an a wire attached to it, and dares her to catch up with him. Her feet move instantly and she gives chase; she runs like she's never before, and the night air fills her lungs. Her body moves fluidly, her limbs bursting. It's good to be Artemis again, _the Artemis_. She had never realized how the title gave her something more than satisfaction - the sheer identity gave her something to live for. She was Artemis today and tomorrow and the days after.

They come to a halt in a nearby alleyway, after hearing some _thwacks_ and a _thump_ that followed. Bows slung off their shoulders, they ready their fire as they turned the corner.

"Hey." Red Arrow drawls, his face coming out of the shadows. Thugs lay at his feet, and he steps over them to reach Ollie. At the distance, in the farthest and darkest corner of the grimy pathway, Artemis sees something slip out of view.

"Didn't know you were making the rounds today." Ollie gives something of a nudge to one of the criminals. "You did all this?"

"Had some help." Roy shrugs.

"Oh." Ollie said, "I thought you would have settled down by now and let Arsenal take it from here."

"Yeah, well." Roy lifts his bow around, not sure what to say. He takes notice of Artemis and gives a curt nod. "You never really do get the fight from out of your system. Out of your blood."

"Youth." Ollie concludes. "Who was it who helped you?"

"Aqualad. But he just left."

"That's apparent. He really should have stayed a little longer, though."

"He's got other business to attend to." Roy peaks over Ollie's shoulder to find Artemis looking towards the end of the back street. He wonders if she caught a glimpse of him before he disappeared to the shadows - the faint blue was still glowing by the time he abruptly parted. There's something about her stillness, the way she wasn't moving despite the fact she clearly wanted to, and her gaze intent on where Aqualad was moments ago. He feels compelled to do something - anything. He wants to help her, but somehow, he feels like it isn't his place to do so, and even he has to bend down sometimes to privacy and respect. His gut is telling him not to enter something so exclusive, whatever it may be. In any case, she ought to do something about that look of hers. It's giving her away.

"We have to get going too. You should come with." Ollie beckons to Roy.

"You don't have to ask."

"Yes it is then, I presume."

Ollie takes off first, ready to be followed by his children. Artemis cast a brief, fleeting look back before she decides to go too. Before she can, though, Roy grasp her by the shoulders.

"Take this." He holds out her hands and placed his cupped one on top.

"What is it?"

"A communicator. For when you want to find me. Or need me. Or whatever."

"That's friendly."

"Families looks after one another." He reminds her.

She looks down and smiles. Then she punches him in the arm. After that they go tearing for Ollie.

...

It's a slow day when it happens. She thinks about him, in a way that it just so happens she remembers he does, in fact, exist.

She figures that there's a reason behind why she keeps missing him. He's there but gone the next second, almost as if he wasn't at all. Dreamlike, she finds herself to be, as she slips the Atlantean necklace off herself one day. She steps out of her flat and heads towards the beach.

Once she feels the water warmly splashing at her feet, she takes the necklace out of her pocket and dangles it by her fingertips. She waits. Nothing happens - she figures as much.

She throws it out as far as she can, and it becomes a speck of gold before it hits the water, ten feet away. She does not feel anger, not even as it happens. Not even as she slowly sank down on the sand, with her jeans on. Only a vague sense of disappointment lingers. After all, nothing. Not that she expected it, because in truth, he doesn't owe her anything.

As the wind picks up, her neck feels oddly naked.

...

She caves in two days later.

It's a Tuesday morning, 2:30 am to be exact, when she regrets throwing that silly adornment away. That isn't to say she thinks it's better for her if it was still around her neck, because it's not. But even she knows how much value it was worth, and she's not thinking about that in an economical sense.

It's the only thing he's ever given to her that has not wandered lost while she was dead.

It served as proof that he's alive. Or at least, something to remind her he was, should anything ever happen. She doesn't hear anything about him from the team anymore, even less (which amounts to nothing) from himself. And now she's lost every bit of his being. Her nails are far too deep in her palms. She's thinking about him.

There she goes. She needs to stop before it's too late. Surely it isn't? But here she goes anyway.

Being ridiculously sentimental.

...

"So what made you want to come back?"

"...Everything."

"Of course." He steps aside to make room for her, and they both walk in his fairly glamorous apartment flat. "Coffee? Tea?"

"Tea's fine." She puts away her coat to further explore the abode that was Dick Grayson's. She didn't think he'd break away from Batman at the age of seventeen. But she's here, and now he's twenty. Dick being who he was, grew to want something for his own. His pictures were proof of that; she see one with a pretty frame, and inside it was one with only him and her, still attending Gotham Academy. She lets out a small chuckle as she sits down on the couch.

"What?" He's back, tea in his hand. "Oh."

"I can't believe you went and framed this. I didn't even know who you were back then."

"That makes it better." He hands her the cup. "Besides, it keeps Barbara jealous."

"She wasn't even jealous about you and Bette Kane." She murmurs, still fondly eyeing the picture.

"Was."

"Wasn't."

"Was - ah, nevermind." Dick snorts merrily, and brings his own cup back to his lips. "But anyway, it's good to have you back."

"You were waiting for me?"

"That's right." After some consideration. "We all have." Dick had been correct - Zatanna was quick with these matters. He marvels at how she could have done it. He and Wally had not been enough to convince Artemis back. He's now certain she knows something that she purposely left out when informing him a few days back.

Out of impulse, his head faces the nearby table. She looks to where he looks. It catches her eye, the trinket, laying innocently to the side. She draws a quick breath, nearly thinking it was the trick of the light.

There's laying on the coffee table, was her necklace.

"He was here." She breathes out.

It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. He was, but - um." Dick says, a bit surprised, a bit startled. He watches her eyes as they continue to stare at the necklace. He knows exactly who she's talking about. Because, truthfully, the person they were both referring to left no longer than ten minutes ago before her arrival.

Dick would be lying if he said he didn't have an inkling to what's going on, and it takes more than just words to confirm his suspicion. _The key to detective work has to do with the expression,_ said Bruce Wayne, world's Master Detective, The Dark Knight, Batman. So Dick studies her quite frequently, even now, puzzled, yet not really. And to see the certain look that carries on her face was enough.

He could hardly suppress his smile.

"He didn't say where he was going, so I'm guessing probably back to his own place."

She nods, but that bit wasn't very helpful. For all these years she had known Kaldur, it never occurred to her that he lived someplace outside of Mount Justice. His temporarily home in the submarine has come to an end too. He can't go back to Atlantis under emotional terms either. And now, just like before, she still has a choice to find out. Nothing is stopping her. It's just the struggle that comes when forming the words. She can't bring herself to ask exactly where Kaldur lived, and perhaps Dick knew that.

He shifts his weight to his left leg, nonchalantly raising his mug to his lips to take a sip of his coffee. He waits for her to react, but she just draws one finger lightly to trace that necklace.

"If you want to - "

A small buzz comes from the pocket of Artemis's pants. She fishes out her phone.

"I have to get going." She says softly.

He stops short. "Oh. And here I thought we were having a swell time." He does a mock once over at himself, checking his breath, dashing towards the mirror. And it makes her laugh, makes him laugh even.

"If only I could. But! I did promise Zatanna I'd go shopping with her today."

"Raquel?"

"You know it." The way she said it, he can only deduce she feeling a twinge of nostalgic about leaving. He feels it too, wishing if only she could stay for a while longer. But she gets up all the same, and the fluid movement of her hips is enough to draw sirens. Dick now sees why Kaldur showed up at his apartment on that rainy Saturday night; the fact was he couldn't stay too long at Artemis's. He was much too courteous and humble. That and another. _Kaldur could never quite get over how she walks_.

Dick hurries over to pluck her jacket from the hanger over to her. As she puts in on, she looks at him, and through her orbs he knows of the questions she can't ask. Questions she probably didn't know existed. He's a pretty good detective himself, so he'll answer in the same manner, the only way he knows how, the only way he can. He hopes his eyes can convey this much back to her.

_If you want to know, he lives in the east end of Star City, near the river_.

"Until next time, whelmed boy." She kisses him on the cheek, and makes her way out the door. Just as the last of her coat disappears, his mug meets the table. Her eyes had seemed to go gentle around the edges at seeing ancient Atlantean words. He traces it, like she's done so just before, trying to see what she did.

He couldn't.

Still, he wonders if she's got his dispatch.

...

She sees him, but she doesn't. It's like the closer she gets to the image of him, he vanishes, leaving behind the reality of strangers she doesn't know, and would never have concern herself with them if she wasn't after his shadow.

She hears his voice swirling in the library, down the avenue, around the park. But when she turns it's never him.

Once, when she was on the train, she saw a man with dark complexion and silver blond hair. It never occurred to her that there were other people in the world that shared his features. To her, there was only but one with that combination. She steps in front of him, eyes scanning. His eyes were dark, his nose was snout, and looking properly, his face seemed a bit mean. She corrects her mistake by opening her book, and flipping through it.

The man himself notices the lady beside him, and starts to make small talk. Artemis tries to be interested. She tries not to be too put out.

By the end of the ride, he's given her his number.

By the time she steps out of the platform, she loses it.

...

It's always rough on a first day, even more so if it's a first day back. Her gear is made for entirely everything but mud. The proof of her rough play is apparent on her fresh cuts and slight bruise. Nothing about her isn't aching, but she won't have it any other way, because it just reminds her she's still standing, still breathing. It's very, very late when she and the team trudge back to home base.

"Some fun, huh?" A rough sixteen-year-old boyish voice asked her.

She ruffles Garfield's head, before remembering it was coated in mud, and withdraws her hand away hastily. He morphs into a falcon, flying away to get first pick on the stalls and presumably, all the hot water.

"You forgot your souvenir!" Cassandra cries out, no doubt trying to get to the showers before him. "_Boys_." She declares to no one in particular, before marching off.

"_Youngsters_." Conner chimed, when she's out of hearing range. Though he doesn't sound annoyed. Just old.

"You're young too," Artemis quipped. "You're still seventeen."

"No," He shakes his head. "Nine. There's a difference."

She still finds his dry humor to be amusing, and smirks. It's his way of welcoming her back. As she heads down the hall with him, the Zeta screen is lit up as always, showing various names of who entered and exited their headquarters. It leaves little for privacy, but nobody really had anything against it expect Cassandra (to which Tim replied when testing to make sure it was order, "Better safe than sorry. It should secure this place even more if anything happens." In the end, everybody agreed it was for the best, because if there were to be an intruder, the Zeta screen showed the body composition and DNA, and in no time at all would they track the villain down).

She walks by almost too engaged with Superboy, so much so that she nearly misses it.

"This is a great, Robin. I really have something to work with."

"Don't strain yourself too much, Oracle." Tim whispers gently, as he hoist Barbara into the computer seat. "See, this is the information it show if there's an unfamiliar person. I programmed the Zeta tubes to do x-rays - "

She doesn't know she was stationary and staring at the screen until Superboy calls out her name twice. She heads off, remembering that she was still in need of a shower, and leaves Tim, Barbara, and now Conner alone to talk quietly.

She suddenly has the urge to go somewhere. Not home exactly, but outside.

Nobody notices that up above on the screen, showed the most recent person to leave Titan headquarters, just under five minutes ago.

AQUALAD - EXIT 11:47 P.M.

...

The next time it happens, it's around noon.

It's only after they have come back from their mission, changed and ready themselves back for home when it starts to rain, hard. It's the kind of rain that makes Artemis think about him and of her home in Gotham. Both are not necessary separate thoughts. Where the first ends the other begins, and everything in between are simple things - like the feel of his hand resting on her thighs, the small of her back being supported by his arms, and his lips pressed against her temple. Those things all happened before, but she's not sure when.

She wants to go home.

"Artemis, hold up." Dick calls, before she switches the Zeta location for Gotham. He places her necklace on her palm. "You forgot this the other day."

"Thanks. I was going to get it tomorrow so that you wouldn't have to do this."

"Yeah, well - " He raises his head upwards, looking at the Zeta screen. She looks too.

AQUALAD - EXIT 7:54 P.M.

The clock on the wall read 7:58 pm. Her muscles stiffen, her fingers especially on the dial she was planning to switch to the phone booth at Gotham. It reads Star City.

"Here, it's raining." Dick hands her an oversized umbrella, the kind that covers two people easily. She takes it, and notices a knowing look on his face. He shrugs. "He never carries one."

...

It's to be expected, now that they're within probable distance at reasonable times. Besides, she's never the one to let something go that easily. It's raining hard, the water pelting the pavement like bullets. Puddles are starting to look like ponds. She can barely see past ten feet surrounding her. She doesn't need to, though; she knows exactly where the river is in Star City.

She feels hazardous, not at all herself. Her heart is beating too fast for her liking. She should not be out of her element. She thinks all these thoughts and warnings with such intensity, trying to force and contain herself, but her feet keep running. She runs and runs until the river is within sight, and he is too. She sees him, drenched to the skin, his back to her.

It's not before long until he hears the sound of her boots meeting the pavement. He turns and meets her gaze, feeling a resonant shift in his mood, in his heart upon her presence. He turns to her fully, and drinks her in before she steps in front of him. There's something making its way to him, a strange sense of overwhelming yearning. It's her whole being, in front of him finally, that does it. Her hair. Her rough, slender, hands and cut arms. Sharp eyes. Coarse yet sweet voice. He can now reach her. And it occurs to him deep down he had always hoped it would come to this.

She's out of breath, very. She thinks her heart is making a mess within her. She would never have thought it would bring a tremendous amount of fluttering in her body to see a person. He stands, allowing her eyes to finally she what she has not for months. It proves to be too much, and she want to say something - anything, to make this real.

"I was - " She started, the umbrella falling as her hands drop to her side, but has no idea where to go on from there. They're both wet to the skin.

He raises both of his firm hands to steady her, placing them behind her ear lobes, if only for a moment. "I know." He said, heart swelling and too heavy to allow him to say anymore. He's just about had more that he could take, he's overflowing. He knows what to do now. Webbed hands that cups a lovely face. He bends down to cover her face with his. His lips traces hers. He feels movement, but by far something completely different from what he's use to. He's never moved his mouth quite like this. He kisses and kisses her, and she, to her own credit, tugs the hem of his shirt gently towards hers.

"Artemis." He mumbles to her mouth, finding it difficult to pull himself back, but finally does so. Their faces drift apart as he distances her. He can't go forward, without at least telling her the truth. She deserves that much.

He wants to tell her his best kept secret. He wants to begin, but he does not know how to finish. How to say the words of endearment that others throw around casually. It's simple in theory. The words get lost, and instead of a confession, it becomes a question. "How?"

She opens her left palm, and he sees the necklace that he gave to her hours, days, or maybe even years ago. Embedded in it is a dark blue shining gem. Written on it is an Atlantean phrase.

"Symbolsis." She answers. Simply, without any hesitation.

He looks at her, and then at the symbol.

"Symbolsis." He repeats.

"Symbolsis."

Again and again.

She draws near and closes her eyes.

He closes the gap.

-Fin-


End file.
